Page 115 of Coveted By Cupid

Crypt comes to my side, his brows pulled together. “Prez, I thought you were going to hammer the stake into him like Vlad.”

“It’s been a long night, buddy. I’m tired and want to crawl into bed with my woman. I’m all for torturing these bastards, but I don’t want to drag this out any longer. Trust me. My method will be just as effective, only faster.”

“Okay. How are we doing this?” he asks, eyeing Kirill fighting frantically against his restrains.

I raise my voice, making sure Kirill can hear me over his thrashing and the chains clanging together. “We’re going to cut out a few steps. No pre-slicing. No greasing. We’ll use gravity to raw-dog this big boy up there.”

Crypt helps me anchor the iron stake between the stones in the floor directly under Kirill. Too bad I didn’t assign another brother to watch over Vanessa tonight. I could really use Cookie’s physics knowledge to calculate this stuff out.

With pursed lips, I stand back to gauge the distance.

Meh. It’s close enough. My eyeballing will have to do.

Kirill is chewing me out in Russian, probably cursing me and my men to damnation. Little does he know that if there is a hell, Satan would assign me and my men to torture Kirill for the rest of his miserable eternity.

I laugh at the fear on his face without a trace of empathy. Kirill never showed mercy to any of his victims. They deserve justice for what happened to them. For them, I will not give him grace.

“Release the pulley,” I order.

Oaks hits the button.

We watch as Kirill comes screeching down, his voice cut off as he’s speared from ass to mouth and blood spurting from his orifices like a fountain. His lifeless body stares blankly into the void, a river of crimson pooling on the cool stones beneath him.

“Bull’s-eye!” Drift shouts with elation, throwing his fists in the air in victory. “That’s gotta be a one-in-a-million shot right there. What are the odds? We should buy a lottery ticket.”

Seeing his comrade impaled in such a horrific fashion, Mikhail screams his damn head off.

Ruger studies the speared corpse, scratching his head. “How the hell are we going to pull this thing out of him?”

Scalpel pushes down on the corpse with all his strength. “Yeah, he’s really wedged on there. It will take a lot of force to yank it clear. There’s no way we can reuse the stake.”

Crypt raises his hand above his head again, his face lighting up like a little kid. “Oooo! Oooo! I can get another one.”

I hold out my palm to stop him. “You’re not raiding the cemetery again, Crypt. It’s not worth getting arrested.”

“Awe!” Crypt drops his hand with disappointment.

“We’ll improvise,” Oaks suggests, retrieving his Glock from his hip holster on his belt.

If Mikhail’s screams don’t make us deaf, a shot fired in a stone room will. “Use something less noisy.”

Crypt retrieves a hatchet from the tool table, launching it through the air and striking the henchman right between the eyes. The screaming stops, leaving the room in sweet silence.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

VANESSA

Cupid doesn’t come home until close to dawn. He wakes me after his shower with heated kisses, setting my body aflame. I don’t object to being woken early. Instead, I open my mouth to him, giving him access to sweep his tongue against mine and stoking the fire burning inside me. He wastes no time dragging my sleepy body down to the foot of the bed before dropping to his knees and covering my pussy with his hot, soft mouth. My body arches off the bed, grinding my pelvis against his wicked tongue. With how enthusiastically he devours me, I have a hunch something big happened, something he wants to celebrate with me. I don’t ruin the moment with questions, choosing to wait until we’ve had our fill of each other.

By the time he’s made me come three times and found his own release, he’s exhausted, collapsing on top of me. His soft snores vibrate against my neck, tickling my skin. I wrap my arms and legs around him, cradling him to my body. My poor man, working himself to the bone with club business only to come home and work me over until he passes out.

It’s nearly time for me to start my day. Instead of trying to squeeze out another hour of sleep, I stay awake, running my fingers over Cupid’s back and enjoying the way he moans contentedly in his sleep from my touch. It pleases me to no end that I affect him as much as he affects me, his body responding to my caresses even in sleep.

Before my alarm goes off, I turn it off and slip out from under Cupid’s heavy frame. His thick brows pinch together with a groan of protest, but otherwise he remains unmoving. After tucking him in and kissing his cheek, I make my way to the bathroom, needing to confirm what I already feel is true.

In the bathroom, I open the hamper. Yesterday’s clothes are inside with Cupid’s on top, dirty and blood-splattered. I run my fingers over the dried blood on his jeans, shuddering.

The last time Cupid came home with bloody clothes was after he killed a man who attempted to abduct me. He fucked me stupid after revealing what he did, and I spread my legs wider for him, begging for more.